


Six Beautiful People

by stocziers



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: After Pennywise, Growing Up Together, High School, Multi, Pennywise Isn't Mentioned Because Fuck That Guy, The Bevchie Friendship We Were Robbed Of, eddie is probs gay, no smut because they're in high school fuckin weirdos, richie is bi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 14:49:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13706694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stocziers/pseuds/stocziers
Summary: After the events of the summer of '89, Beverly moves back to Derry and reconnects with the loser's club. This begins at the start of sophomore year and ends before the beginning of their freshman year of college. This whole fic is from Bev's POV except for the end where it switches to the boys.tw//drug use, suicide attempt, themes of child abuse





	Six Beautiful People

**Author's Note:**

> hello :) this fic took me ages to write and i'm really happy with how it turned out. this is my first fic so feedback would be greatly appreciated! there are components in this that were influenced by/inspired by other fics so if you notice any similarities that's why. thank you!!

I’ve walked down this street thousands of times. The first time was the second day of kindergarten, because I was sick on the first. Any kid knows if you miss the first day of school, you missed your chance to make friends. Unfortunately for me, that was true. So here I was, 5 years old, and walking to school by myself. I tried to make it seem like it was my choice to go alone, that my dad didn’t forget to take me, But I couldn’t. To stop myself from crying, I memorized the path I took. and I memorized it further on the way back home, because shocker, my dad forgot to pick me up too. Every day after that was a constant cycle, I would walk on the same path, go to the same classes, and get picked on by the same girls. But then everything changed, because one summer, I moved to Portland. In Portland, I didn’t need to memorize a path to school, because my aunt drove me every morning. In Portland, I had an entirely different schedule, with all new courses. In Portland, I didn’t get picked on everyday. No one even talked to me. I mean it’s not like anyone talked to me in Derry, but that was because I never talked to them either. But in Portland, no one talked to me because they were afraid to. To them, I was the girl who moved into her aunt’s house in the beginning of eighth grade. Most people know that if a child moves in with a relative, it’s probably because their parents died. I think they thought that I killed them. I pretended like I didn’t notice how people would grab their bags a little tighter when I stepped out of my aunt’s car on the way to my brand new class labeled first period on my brand new schedule. At first, I thought that I hated consistency, the feeling of repeating the same actions day in and day out, but really, i was scared of change. When I asked my aunt if I could move back to Derry at the beginning of last year, she asked me if I thought that was a good idea, because of what happened to me back there. I asked her what happened, but instead of answering, she gave me a sympathetic smile, the type of smile that you give your friend when they get a bad grade on a test. But it still felt like she knew something that I didn’t. Because when I asked her what happened to me, I meant it. I don’t remember anything about the summer I moved, except for bits and pieces which come back to me at random times. I think maybe what happened to me was so bad, that my brain actually forced itself to forget. When I moved back to Derry, an elderly couple named Margaret and Harry Anderson offered me a room in their house for as long as I wanted. Harry was a technician before he retired in ‘84. Margaret was a school tutor, which was probably the luckiest thing that came out of living with them. They were caring, kind, and compassionate. They were all the things my father wasn’t. But then Harry had his heart attack in the middle of the night, and Margaret called me the next day to tell me that he died in his sleep. Margaret died 3 days later. She left me the house in her will. Well, here we are. Derry high school. After this, I only have 2 more first days of school. First days usually suck, but for some reason this one feels different. This one feels happier. I lied before. I did remember one thing about that summer. Actually six things. Six beautiful things. Six beautiful people. Six best friends. I don’t remember how we all became friends, I knew a few of them from class or in the hallways, but i knew deep down that something must have happened that brought seven unlikely people together. Because what i have with these six people, is more than a friendship, it’s a bond. I walked over to the blue lunch table in the far back of the cafeteria. I sat down with a smile, admiring the faces in front of me.

 

First we have Mike Hanlon. If someone held a gun to my head and asked me who I would take with me to war, it would be Mike. He’s the strongest person I know, and i’m not just talking about in the physical sense. Derry isn’t exactly what you would call an accepting town. I knew that Mike was homeschooled until last year, and sometimes I wish it had stayed that way. He gets nasty glares from teachers and students. When Mike joined the track team last year we were all so happy for him, until one day someone wrote a word on his sports locker. I didn’t know what it meant, I had never heard anyone use that word, but based on Mike’s face when he saw it, I knew that it was a word full of hatred. We all expected him to quit the team, I mean it’s what we all would have done, but Mike was never one to give up. Instead, he trained harder than anyone else on the team, and broke three school records. He eventually got to solid ground with his teammates, and they apologized for what they wrote on his locker. Mike, being the level headed man he is, accepted their apology and never thought twice about it again.

 

Next is Eddie Kaspbrak. Being the shortest of the group, he’s often made the center of teases and jokes. He’s got a fiery temper but someone told me that was just his way of telling us not to coddle him. And honestly, I don’t blame him. He’s been coddled his whole life. By us, by this town, and especially by his mom. I think his mom has some sort of mental illness, like my mom did. But instead of seeing dead bodies hanging from the shower rack, she believed that Eddie was sick. And it totally fucked him up. Eddie missed out on so much as a kid. For the first 13 years of his life, he was terrified to even sit down on a school bus because of the possible diseases he could catch. Last year we were at a party playing spin the bottle. A girl leaned over, spun it, and it landed on Mr. Hypochondriac himself. She leaned in expecting him to do the same, but he burst into tears and ran away. We spent hours trying to calm him down, and in between sobs he was telling us how many germs are in a person’s mouth and how scary it was. We all thought that he was being ridiculous, but it occurred to us that in that moment, Eddie realized he would probably never be able to kiss anyone, ever. He’s gotten better though, he doesn’t need to wipe down a lunch table before he sets down his tray, and he stopped taking his medication, which never worked anyway but it still made him feel secure. Eddie would never know this, but Richie would carry around Eddie’s inhaler in his bag until the day we would all graduate, just in case he ever needed to feel safe. And judging on the way Eddie looks at Richie when he isn’t looking, I’m guessing that germs wasn’t the main reason why he didn’t want to kiss that girl.

 

Sitting across from Eddie was Ben Hanscom. Ben was by far the smartest of the group. He spent hours in the library trying to soak up every last detail of information that he could possibly find. He said that he’s going to read every book ever written until he’s learned everything that the world could offer. And then once he’s done that, he would lie down and die. I think it’s absurd but seeing the way he gets all animated and excited when he’s talking about a new book he read or a new fact he learned, it’s kind of captivating. Ben reminds me a lot of Mike, they’ve both been through so much torment and harassment, yet they still manage to treat everyone the same way. It makes the rest of the world seem so shitty when you think about it. How some people have everything and treat others like utter shit, while people like Ben and Mike have been to hell and back, but will always be smiling and there for you no matter what. Last year when I tripped in the hallway and spilled my books all over the floor, Ben was right by my side helping me pick them up. When I broke my toe doing cartwheels with Richie in June, Ben held my hand throughout the entire ambulance ride, and he never stopped telling me that I was going to be ok. Unfortunately for ben, I’m really good at reading people. Considering I didn’t have friends until last year, I watched people to learn more about them. So when Ben looks at me with his cheeks red, lips slightly parted, and eyes shining, I know exactly what it means.

 

Next to Ben, eating his perfectly sliced peanut butter and jelly sandwich (minus the crust), was Stanley Uris. Stanley Uris will forever be engraved in my brain as the bravest person I ever knew. We were all affected by whatever it is that happened that summer, but no one was as affected as Stan. Those tiny scars on the side of his face weren’t there before I left for portland, but they were when I came back. And it’s just a reminder of how something awful must have happened to him. Stan has always been neat. He sits straight up with his hands flat on his perfectly ironed shirts and shorts. Everyone just thought it was a phase, but it wasn’t. It got worse. Stanley liked order. But what happened that summer messed with his order, and Stan crumbled. It started with little things. Like if there was food on Mike’s shirt then Stan would get a napkin and clean it off. Or he would adjust the picture frames in his room for hours until they were perfectly straight. But then it got to the point where Stan couldn’t even leave his room because everything was crooked and dirty and wrong. He would scratch at his arms until he bled, he would cry for hours, he would do anything to distract himself from everything that was impure. I didn’t know what OCD meant at the time, but Eddie explained it to me and suddenly it all made sense. I just wished we had realized it sooner. Everyday is a battle for Stan, but whenever I see him smile, it feels like he’s won.

 

Across from Stanley sat the living nightmare himself. Richie Tozier. Commonly known as trashmouth by the student body, completely hopeless by his teachers, and a huge pain in the ass by the rest of the loser’s club. The first time I ever met Richie was in 5th grade. We were both in detention together. I got caught smoking a cigarette in the girls bathroom, and Richie cursed out Ms. Nesbitt the gym teacher for calling him too skinny. The next hour and a half was full of Richie making dick jokes, doing horrible voice impressions, or singing Billie Jean completely off key over and over and over. But the thing is, anyone else would have been annoyed with how much Richie talked, but I found it fascinating how fast his mind works. He’s definitely the funniest person I know. Richie once said his biggest fear is clowns, I don’t know how I know that, but I do know that he was lying. I always thought my dad would win the award for worst parenting, but Richie’s parents truly take the cake. On Richie’s 9th birthday, his mom bought him a bottle of vodka, some gum, and a pack of camels. His mom ended up drinking the entire bottle, and vomiting all over the gum pack. The only thing that were untouched were the cigarettes, and from that day on, Richie would smoke about 7 of them a day. Richie and I got close in the middle of last year when he lent me a cigarette because I ran out. And for a minute I felt really good. There was a quiet, it was calming, but there isn’t a silence in Derry that won’t make you feel uneasy. But in that moment it was peaceful. Until Richie fucking Tozier opened his mouth. The only way to get Richie to stop talking is to shut him up yourself. So I kissed him. I kissed him so hard until he couldn’t breathe. And when I pulled back, the idiot was smiling. I groaned and rolled my eyes, stubbing out the cigarette and walked back inside. That night, I woke up to hear an urgent pounding on my door. I quickly threw on a shirt that was long enough to cover my underwear. I opened the door to find Richie standing there looking completely wrecked. His usual pair of tight black jeans were covered in mud and grass. His Talking Heads t-shirt was torn in multiple places. And his obnoxiously big glasses had a slight crack on the lens which wasn’t there earlier that day. He asked if he could come in, so I said yes. Once he walked away from the doorframe, I could see two suitcases trailing behind him. I knew why richie was here, he wouldn’t have to explain it. He pushed his glasses up his nose and chuckled but it sounded more hollow than sincere. He made his way up the stairs and into the hall. “Damn Bev three bedrooms? How much sex are you having?” Normally I would have laughed and gave him a short answer to which Richie would have responded with something like how he was gonna do it with Eddie’s mom in all of these bedrooms, but not this time. Richie’s hollow laugh trailed off into a heavy silence. I didn’t want to ask, Richie would never give me an honest answer. I just told him what Margaret told me, that he could stay as long as he liked. He smiled, reached forward and ruffled my hair playfully. I pushed his hand away and laughed. Richie quickly changed the subject, asking me in a painfully awful British accent if I could make him a spot of tea while he used the powder room to freshen up. I did a small curtsy and walked downstairs. I made two cups of earl gray tea and brought one up for Richie. Surprisingly the water wasn’t running. I opened the bathroom door and Richie wasn’t there. I was about to panic until I heard a sound. A sound that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I pressed my ear against the closest bedroom door and listened. I’ve seen all the losers cry before and they’ve all seen me. But until that day, I had never seen Richie Tozier cry. It was like he was an actor, and he finally broke character. When Mike cries, which is rare, it’s quiet, just the sound of quivering breaths and sharp inhales. When Eddie cries, it’s more of a high pitched yell along with long sobs. The last time he cried was two months ago when he watched Richie get beat up by two seniors when Richie poured his slushie on them for calling Eddie a fag. The last time I heard Ben cry was so long ago I’m not even sure if it was real or not. I think it was a dream. It was just his voice yelling my name over and over followed by please each time, like he’s begging me to wake up. I saw Bill cry when he sat on his brother’s bed, one year after the funeral. He held his yellow jacket in his hands while I sang softly to him and rubbed his back soothingly. I was there when Stan had his first anxiety attack over a chip in the paint covering his bedroom wall. He was wailing, and thrashing, letting out one blood curdling scream after another. We put gloves on his hands to keep him from scratching. I thought that was the worst night of my life. But that was nothing compared to now. Richie wasn’t yelling, or wailing, or letting out shaky-hiccupy-snotty breaths. Richie cried like he’s been holding in tears since the day he was born. This wasn’t sadness, this was pain. Pure pain. His agonizing sobs grew stronger, but I knew I couldn’t walk in. If Richie knew I saw him at his most vulnerable time, he wouldn’t be there the next morning. But listening to him hurting, stung worse than anything I’d ever felt. I broke my arm when I was 6, I broke my toe last year, neither of them hurt. But Richie Tozier broke something of mine that night that could never be repaired. He broke my heart. Because I knew that Richie wasn’t afraid of clowns, he was afraid of abandonment. His mother never payed attention to him, so he started acting out and getting in trouble, just hoping that someone would notice him. The other kids thought it was because of his untreated ADHD, but really, it was a cry for help. The next morning I made breakfast while Richie hopped down the stairs like a rabid bunny. He grabbed a waffle, took a bite, and kissed me on the cheek. Like nothing ever happened. After about a month of living together, Richie was a completely new person. To anyone else they wouldn’t have noticed a difference, but I did. He told jokes now because they were funny, not for someone to turn around and say, “Beep beep Richie”. He started cooking dinner, eating healthier, and exercising. For once he wasn’t the lanky 6’ kid anymore. After weighing himself and looking happy with the number on the scale, he raised both his middle fingers to the ceiling and yelled “TAKE THAT MS. NESBITT!”. I think the rest of the losers expected us to start dating, but we both knew that was never going to happen. I’m not gonna lie and act like Richie and I weren’t “more than friends” on about 3 occasions, and I’m not gonna pretend to be ashamed to say that Richie Tozier was my first, because he’s my best friend, and I would do anything for him, just like I know he would do anything for me. My eyes hazily transition from the long memory back to the lunch table I’m sitting at.

 

I look up and make direct eye contact with the last loser at the table, Bill Denbrough. There’s something about Bill Denbrough that everyone falls in love with. Whether it be his soft voice, his stutter (which I’ll admit takes a little getting used to, but it sounds like birds singing when you do), or his welcoming personality that makes you feel like you’ve known him for years. While Richie was my first of other things, Bill had a much more innocent place in my heart. I remember how loudly my heart was beating when we had to kiss in the school play in 3rd grade, and how I prayed for the first time in my life that he wouldn’t hear it. He congratulated me afterwards and I told him the same. After that, I barely saw him. Bill took mainly honors or advanced classes. He didn’t get the same grades as Ben or Stan did, but he was so wise that it scared me sometimes. Even after losing his brother, he took the leadership position of our group, and none of us would rather have it any other way. The thing is, I used to look at bill the way the way Ben looks at me or Eddie looks at Richie. But now it’s something different. It’s pure and raw pride. I look at Bill, and I see someone who didn’t go with his parents to their annual beach vacation because Mike had the flu. I see someone who skipped his english midterm because Eddie called him in a frenzy because Richie had gotten beaten up. I see someone who held me up when I was broken down. I am afraid of change, because I feel like I’m unprepared to face things on my own. But I realize that I was never alone. I look at all of them. The six losers. My losers. And I wouldn’t wish for anything to change. But we can’t always get what we want. The next two years of high school was a wrecking ball on our perfect, perfect friendship.

 

Mike got a scholarship to an independent prep school about 50 minutes away. We noticed the immediate shift in our dynamic. We were the lucky seven, but with six of us, it wasn’t the same. Ben’s eating disorder quickly followed. We noticed the obvious weight loss, but whenever any of us tried to talk to him, he would tell us to leave him alone and stay out of his business, which is something that we never thought Ben would say. After passing out in gym class, Ben checked into a rehabilitation center for the next 5 months. Bill was next. He joined the baseball team and quickly gained popularity. With more people wanting to talk to him, his stutter improved rapidly, to the point where it was barely noticeable anymore. One day he walked over to our lunch table and was about to sit down when the hockey captain Cameron Patterson whistled for Bill to come sit with them and the other jocks. Bill glanced over at us to make sure it was ok. Eddie nudged for him to go but the hurt in his eyes was so prominent that Bill must have been blind not to see it. After that day, Bill never sat with us again. I mean we all still hung out when Bill wasn’t busy with baseball practice or doing whatever he was doing with half the cheerleading squad. The rest of us were getting more and more agitated with Bill each time we saw him. It was no longer a losers club, it was Bill Denbrough and his gang of losers. It was like we didn’t have anything in common anymore. Bill would talk about sports or girls while the rest of us just pretended to care. Except for Richie. Richie and Bill knew each other for longer than any of the other losers. And whenever Bill talked, it took all of Richie’s willpower not to punch him in his perfect face. Richie decided he didn’t want to see Bill anymore, so Bill stopped hanging out with us altogether. Then came Stan. After going to a few high school parties he realized that his OCD didn’t bother him when he was drunk, so he made sure to get as wasted as he could at every party. He knew what it was doing to his body and his brain, and how at the end of the night Eddie would be holding his curls out of his face while his head is in the toilet, but he does it anyway. Because he feels normal. One night, Eddie, Stan, and I went to a party. Richie didn’t come because we told him that Bill would be there. About an hour into the party, it was like everything slowed down. I took a step back and looked at the scene unfolding in front of me. I saw Bill, the boy who didn't stop searching for his brother even after the police told him he was gone, with his tongue down a girl’s throat. Anyone could tell you that girl looked almost just like me. I saw Stan, the boy who used to yell at Richie whenever he came to school hungover, throwing back shot after shot of liquor like his life depended on it. Eddie never left my side that night. I think Eddie saw me as the mother figure he never had. Which is why he would always come to me first if he was ever upset or sad. Sometimes it was the other way around. Last year Bill went on a date with a girl named Marsha. She was shy, like Bill, and always wore a pink dress with white polka dots. I didn’t know why, but I felt jealous. I told Eddie that the first person I ever had a crush on was Bill. He started to laugh. I asked him what was so funny and he turned to me and said, “Me too”. Immediately after those words left his lips, his laughter turned to tears. I held him close and told him it was ok. Because it was. I didn’t care who Eddie liked. As long as he’s happy, it shouldn’t matter who they are. It wouldn’t be until 24 years later that Eddie would tell me what happened after he refused to kiss that girl during spin the bottle. He told me that after the rest of us left, Richie stayed. Anyone could tell you that Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak were the closest of the group. Sure, Richie teased him or gave him nicknames which Eddie absolutely despised, but if anyone else dared to make fun of Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie’s fist would hit their face before they could even open their mouth. They were an unlikely pair. Richie with his messy black curls, his all black clothes, and the smell of nicotine that always followed him wherever he went. Eddie was the polar opposite, with his perfectly styled hair, his shorts that were always too short because he was too small to buy the next size up, and his fanny pack full of useless medication. To anyone outside of the loser’s club, it would seem like Eddie hated Eichie. How Eddie would tell Richie to fuck off whenever Richie would call him Eddie Spaghetti, or yell at him for skipping class. But I always saw the slight smile Eddie had when he would punch Richie in the arm for making jokes about sleeping with his mom. And I saw the way Eddie blushed 24 years later when he told me how on the night of spin the bottle, Richie kissed Eddie softly on the mouth to show him that there was nothing to be scared of. But here we are, sophomore year. At a party with 3 of my best friends, yet, I don’t recognize any of them. Eddie was the next to go. Shortly after the party, his mom got worse. Way worse. She started thinking Eddie’s illness was terminal, and she never let him leave the house. He had two options, he could stay with her, which in the back of his mind he knew would be forever, or he could call the police, and then have nowhere to go. He was trapped. And the worst part of it was that she wouldn’t even let us see him. It was no secret that Eddie’s mom hated me and Richie. She always believed the rumors that people in town spread about me when I was younger. She had hated Richie since the moment she met him. They were 10, and Richie was trying to teach Eddie how to ride a bike. His mom had refused to let Eddie ride a bike because of the dangers that could come with it. So Richie snuck over when Eddie’s mom was at work. Eddie fell off the bike and scraped his knee. He was crying, and Richie was so focused on trying to calm him down that he didn’t notice the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. The moment she saw what was in front of her was the most terrifying moment of Richie’s life. The bike, laying about four feet away from the curb on it’s side. Her son, in tears with blood dripping down his knee, and a boy crouching next to him. She recognized the boy immediately. He was the kid that parents warned you to stay away from. At work, she had heard about the boy with glasses who had a dirty mouth. The next few minutes were full of yelling, crying, and shattered hearts. She told Richie to stay away from Eddie, and that she would kill him if she ever saw him touch her son again. Richie was used to these types of outbursts, so he calmly apologized and left. Eddie’s mom quit her job the next day to make sure she could keep an eye on Eddie at all times. But that was 6 years ago, and now Eddie couldn’t leave at all. I think that’s what broke Richie. All of us losers would speculate why Richie Tozier snapped at the end of 10th grade, but I’m almost certain Eddie was the reason. Richie, Stan, and I spent most of our time together after Eddie left. We were all each other had left. Richie stopped coming to class about a month before school ended. Stan and I would sit in each period staring at the empty desk behind us where Richie would usually sit. I would ask him every night during dinner why we wasn’t in school and the answer would always be the same. He would say “Well princess sometimes the prince needs saving too”. I didn’t know what that meant, but little did I know I was watching the beginning of the end. Stan noticed it first, because Richie would always ask Stan if he had any special Jewish snacks in his bag, but Richie stopped asking. In fact, Richie didn’t ask about food at all anymore. He stopped cooking dinner, his ever so prominent cheekbones hollowed out further as if that was even possible. Due to Richie’s self diagnosed ADHD, he was always fidgeting or on the move. But now, it was like he was shaking. He smoked a lot more too, almost 14 per day, like he was satisfying a craving. Then came the nosebleeds. We were watching a movie when I noticed that blood was dripping onto the carpet, I swiped at my nose to see if it was me, but I saw Richie put his hand to his nose to stop the bleeding, and run to the bathroom. Richie always wore t-shirts with some rock band that no one had ever heard of on them. But now he wore sweatshirts, sweaters, jackets, almost anything that would cover his arms. Deep down, Stan and I knew what was going on with Richie, but we were terrified to say anything because Richie is a wild card. One wrong move and he could implode. I was doing laundry when I went to grab Richie’s clothes. I found his leather jacket on the floor so I picked it up when a small, clear, packet of white powder fell from the pocket. I wasn’t an idiot, I knew what it was. I’d seen my dad bring home bigger bags full of the same white powder, and I knew that it was evil. Whenever the bags were empty, there would be a madness in his eyes that wasn’t quite human. It was the same madness that now lied beyond those dark framed glasses of my best friend. And in that moment I felt so angry. My blood was boiling and there was a ringing in my ears that left me feeling like I was going to throw up. I grabbed the packet and stormed into the living room where Stan and Richie were watching tv. I grabbed the remote and turned it off. I looked at Stan, letting him know he needed to leave. He got the message and he stood up and left. Once I heard the door shut behind him, I turned back to face Richie. Richie stood up too but before he could walk past me I stood directly in front of him. “You have 5 seconds to sit back down on that couch,” I said. He started to say “Move Bev”, but before he finished, I slapped him right across his left cheek. Richie slowly turned back to face me, and keeping an emotionless face, sat back on the couch. I took the packet and threw it on the coffee table. “What the hell is this?”. Richie didn’t answer. “Is it yours?”. He started to respond but I quickly yelled “Look me in the eye and tell me the truth”. He looked right at me with those cold, dead eyes, and said “Yes”. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. “Where did you get it?”, I asked wearily. “I bought it.”, he responded. “You BOUGHT it? With what money?” There was silence. “With what money Richie?”, I said again. “My savings”, he stammered. “How much?”, I asked but I was scared to know the answer. “$3,000.” I felt nauseous. “It won’t happen again I swear.”, he pleaded. “Bullshit.”, I said shaking my head. “Bev I mean it.” I scoffed, “Yeah? You really mean that? Then roll up your sleeve Richie.” His pale face sunk even further. “Bev..” he started to say. “Roll up your fucking sleve Richie.” He slowly grabbed the hem of the sleeve and rolled up. I closed my eyes felt a tear roll down my cheek. Sure enough there were bruises on his upper bicep, and little red bumps on his inner elbow. Track marks. “I can explain”, he stuttered. I interjected, “What is there to explain? You spent the money that was supposed to help you get into college for drugs. As if you could even get into college considering you probably won’t even pass 10th grade. The teacher’s don’t even call out your name during attendance anymore because they know that you won’t be there. You spend your days getting drunk or getting high, sounds an awful lot like someone you know doesn’t it? You hate your mom so much, well congratu-fucking-lations richie, you became her.” I walked out of the living room and I heard Richie get up behind me. I stood on the stairs and faced him. “I’m sorry Rich but you can’t live here anymore. “W-what?”, he said looking defeated. “I need you to leave.” “Bev please-”. “GET OUT”, I yelled. He didn’t argue with me any further. He didn’t say anything at all. He just stood up, went upstairs, grabbed a bottle of vodka, a pack of gum, and a pack of cigarettes, and just like that he was gone. I thought that Richie might go to Stan’s, but I’m sure that Richie knew Stan wouldn’t be able to handle living with him. Then I realized that Richie didn’t take any of his things with him. He wasn’t just leaving, he was never coming back. So I ran. I ran faster than I ever have before. I yelled his name down every street hoping that the next time I saw him he wasn’t foaming at the mouth in an alleyway. After running for what felt like days, I remembered that richie always went to the quarry when he wanted to be alone. And there he was. Sitting on the edge of the cliff with his legs dangling over. I quietly walked over to him, and sat next to him. We didn’t talk for a while, but I saw him pull out the small packet of powder, and throw it over the cliff and into the murky waters below. “I love you Richie, but I mean it when I say you can’t live with me anymore. Not until you get better.” Richie nodded and whispered “I want to get better”. And I believed him. Richie went to the same rehab center as Ben, which made me feel a bit better knowing that Richie or Ben wouldn’t have to be alone. The summer between sophomore and junior year seemed to last a lifetime. It was just Stan and I. Most of the time we spent together was when I was grabbing a drink out of his hand, having his half unconscious body leaning on mine as I took him back to my house, or making him a drink to help with his hangover the next day. Stan didn’t connect with me at first. I suppose that Stan wasn’t open to the idea of his foursome of Bill, Richie, Eddie, and himself, having more members. Of course he still tutored me when I asked him too, and I would go bird watching with him when he had no else to go with. I always admired Stan. He was very rational and saw things from a logical point of view. He was funny, some people could argue that he was funnier than richie. He had a dry sense of humor and could spit out one liners that had the rest of us in tears from laughing so hard. I wish I saw that side of Stan now. I learned that stan was always under immense pressure from his father. Being the son of the rabbi, Stan was expected to go into rabbinic studies. Stan realized that he would much rather read a book about different species of birds than study the torah, and his father hated it. Stan and I got a lot closer that summer. Considering he couldn’t go home drunk, he stayed at my house most of the time, in Richie’s room of course. Then came the event which I would regret withholding from the rest of the loser’s 24 years later. One night, Stan showed up at my house, completely sober. It was a surprise considering i hadn’t seen stan sober in almost 2 months. He had a fight with his dad about how his grades were dropping, and he hit Stan. I asked if Stan wanted any food and he said he wanted mac and cheese, which I knew was Bill’s favorite food. I smiled and told him that I would make it. He said he was going to go take a nap while I cooked, and I told him that I would bring it up to him when it was ready. 30 minutes later, the mac and cheese was done. I walked upstairs and was faced with a deja vu. It was an exact parallel to when I brought Richie his cup of tea last year, except this time, the water was running. I knocked on the bathroom door and said “Stan? Are u in there?” No answer. My heart started racing and my breathing became uneven. I put down the bowl and tried to open the door, but it was locked. I started to kick the door and run into it over and over. When the door finally broke down, I saw Stan, sitting in the bathtub, with all of his clothes on. Except he wasn’t breathing. I saw the empty bottle of painkillers which were prescribed to me last year when I broke my toe. There were over 20 pills in that container. The next few moments were almost a blur. I remember dragging stan’s lifeless body out of the tub, positing him in front of the toilet, and shoving my fingers down his throat. When a gurgling sound emerged from his sternum, I almost sobbed in happiness. I helped him stay steady when he threw up the pills into the toilet for over 15 minutes. After he was done, I helped him back into the bath, and turned on the shower. I sat behind him as the water came down on top of us both. I started scrubbing at his face, his hair, and his clothes. I heard him start to cry, so I held him from behind and kissed the back of his neck over and over. He kept repeating “I’m sorry” like he was apologizing to everyone. But I shushed him and rocked him back and forth slowly. I turned off the water, helped him get dressed, and put him into richie’s bed. I didn’t sleep at all that night. I sat in Richie’s stupid chair at the opposite corner of the room and watched him sleep. The next morning was the same thing as I expected. We acted like nothing happened. Stan went back to his parent’s house, threw out all of his books about birds, and attended torah readings three times a week. He was so busy, I only saw him when I occasionally bumped into him on the way to the store. It was the first time in 3 years that I was completely, utterly, and unconditionally, alone. There were only 2 more weeks of summer before junior year started, and I knew i would have to walk the path to school on the first day by myself. I spent the first month of junior year detached and lonely. I went to church for the first time in my life, and prayed that my friend’s would come back to me.

 

The next day, Mike transferred back to Derry high school, and I cried with happiness when I saw him walking through the door. Ben got out of rehab about a week later, looking healthy and happy. I had cried again when he showed up at my house the day he was discharged. I told both of them a quick summary of what happened over the last year, even though Ben already knew most of it from Richie, who apparently was doing a lot better. I had two of my best friends back, and it felt like a miracle. I never believed in God until that day. I woke up one morning to the sound of someone making breakfast, I thought it was an intruder, until I saw the back of a very tall and lanky boy singing Billie Jean extremely off key. Richie turned around and said “Well hello Miss Marsh what would thou want for breakfast this great morning?”. It was like he had never left. My eyes welled with tears as I ran towards him and hugged him like my life depended on it. His long limbs engulfed me while he held me tight. I could no longer feel his ribs through his shirt and his cheeks were back to their original color. “Guess what?” he said. “What?” I responded while wiping my eye with my sleeve. “Your prince saved himself.” The next few days were amazing. Richie came back to school, and actually started applying himself. It wasn’t until we heard two girls gossiping, that we would know what happened to Eddie Kaspbrak. Apparently earlier that morning Eddie called the police. His mother was taken into custody, and Eddie was taken down to the station. Lucky for us, Mike had gotten his driving licence at the prep school, and owned a truck that was given to him by his grandfather. We all hopped into the truck and sped down the small derry roads to the police station. We tripped over each other on our way through the door, but we saw him. Eddie Kaspbrak, small as ever, sitting on a bench with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. When his eyes met ours he ran over to us and nearly tackled Richie as he leapt onto him. We all held each other for such a long time, we forgot where we were. “We missed you Eddie Spaghetti,” if the circumstances were any different Eddie would have told him off for calling him that, but he never thought he would be happier to hear Richie’s voice. Eddie said the only reason he was still at the station was because he didn’t have any emergency contacts, so there was no one to take him. And that’s the story of how Eddie moved in with me and Richie. Stan took a while to come back to us, but when he did, he finally gained the courage to tell his dad to fuck off. He took off his kippah and threw it to the ground, taking his stuff and leaving. Stan moved into Eddie’s room, because they both liked everything to be neat and clean. Our group felt whole again, our original dynamic was back and we craved every minute we would all spend together. But one thing was missing, our leader. Bill was as popular as he ever had been, but he never acknowledged us anymore. I knew Bill would have still been our friend if Richie hadn’t shut him out completely, so Richie found Bill after baseball practice, and apologized. Bill accepted his apology, but nothing changed. He still sat at a different lunch table and hung out with different people. Until one day when Richie and Eddie were making their way to our usual lunch table when someone sitting at Bill’s table tripped Eddie. He fell, spilling his food all over the ground. “Watch where you’re going you fucking fairy” a boy shouted. Richie didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the boy by the collar, dragged him out of his seat, and punched him directly in the face. Unfortunately for Richie, the other boy was a lot stronger, and tackled him to the ground punching him repeatedly. It was like the whole thing was happening in slow motion, each hit to Richie’s face, or each time Eddie screamed that they were going to kill him if they didnt stop. And then something impossible happened. A fist made contact with the bigger boy’s face. Blood spurted from his nose and he fell backward from the impact. But that fist didn’t belong to Richie. It belonged to Bill Denbrough. This boy was strong, but Bill was stronger, baseball had given him quite the bulky frame. He crouched down in front of the boy and said, “If you ever call him that again, I will kill you. Do you understand?” The boy nodded quickly, stood up and walked away with the other people sitting at the table. “A-a-re you okay Rich?” It was the first time we heard him stutter in over a year. “Yeah, I’m fine, if he had punched me in the dick it would be a different story.” Bill chuckled slightly, helping him stand up. “W-w-we should probably put s-s-some ice on that. Y-you know? Before it gets swollen?” Richie wiped some blood away from his lip and smiled, “It’s no problemo mi amigo why Sir Richie can survive anything.” Bill smiled back. There was a bit of an awkward silence before Ben spoke up. “Bill, we were going to ditch last period and go the arcade, do you want to join us?” Bill’s eyes got really wide and said “R-really?” like he didn’t expect us to be nice to him after the way he treated us the past year. The thing was, Bill was never actually mean to our faces, he never pushed us or tripped us like his friends did, he just didn’t say anything at all, which in some ways hurt even more. “Of course you can come,” I said, “Who else is gonna beat Richie at street fighter?” Bill laughed and it sounded like birds singing. I missed that sound so much. Richie interrupted, “As IF baseball Bill could beat me, not after his year of hiatus.” We all looked at Bill, expecting him to leave or walk away after Richie brought up what Bill had been doing without us the past year, but instead Bill smirked. “Well if you really think about Richard, I’m the one with the bloody knuckles from punching someone in the face, and you’re the one with the bloody nose from getting punched in the face, so who’s really winning?” Richie’s jaw dropped. Bill never used to trash talk anyone, I guess in baseball that’s how you psych out your opponent. We all laughed while Richie was stammering. “Big Bill gets off a good one!” Mike said while giving him a high five. “You left the trashmouth speechless.” Stan added, practically falling over from laughing. “He caught me off guard you assholes!” Richie whined, “Whatever let’s head to the arcade before someone catches us.” We all nodded and walked out of school, the 7 of us, finally together again. At the arcade, I noticed how much everyone had grown up in their own way, but yet nothing had changed. I saw Bill and Richie engaging in an extremely intense game of street fighter, Richie yelling out one expletive after another while watching his avatar get knocked out by Bill’s almost every time. Stan, leaning on the left of the claw machine, pretending not to care, but still smiling whenever Bill would beat Richie. I saw Eddie, huddled next to Mike as they played some game with animals on the screen. He was cheering while Mike was concentrating hard on winning the game. I saw Ben, standing next to me, looking healthy as ever. He was still skinny as he had been before he left for rehab, but he no longer looked sick. Nowadays, he joined track with Mike, and had grown a couple of inches. He had peach fuzz on his chin and a smile that could light up any room. Sometimes I missed the old Ben, but knowing how much he hated himself then, makes me happy that he’s accepted himself now. He doesn’t stare at me as much as he used to, I think it’s because of the fact that you can see his muscles through his shirt and girls practically flock to him in packs. I dunno, I kinda miss it. How he used to look at me like I was the only girl in the world, now I’m just one of many. I’ve always loved Ben, but now, it’s something different. I don’t know what it means, all I know is that my stomach gets queasy and i feel lightheaded when he talks to me. Richie said that I was allergic to him, but I think it’s quite the opposite. After what went down in the lunchroom that day, no one bothered us ever again.

 

The rest of junior and senior year flew by, and next thing we knew, it was graduation day. I didn’t want to think about how I would be leaving in a few months, and how I probably wouldn’t see my boys for a long time. None of us talked about graduation, we all hated thinking about the future. The only times we acknowledged it was when he got our acceptance letters to college. Bill got into Stanford, and was planning to become a horror novelist. I don’t know Bill would want to go to the West Coast, he never really liked hot weather, but I realized that he wanted to be as far away from any memory of his brother as possible. Eddie got into the University of Arizona, he didn’t know what he wanted to do, but he hoped that college would help him figure it out. Mike and I both got into NYU. I wanted to study fashion design and Mike wanted to study literature. But ultimately, Mike decided that he was going to stay in Derry with his grandfather. I, on the other hand, accepted. Stan got into a small school outside of Atlanta, we all thought it was a good idea because there wouldn’t be too many people in case he got bad again. Ben got into MIT, where he was going to study biochemistry and engineering, we were all so proud. Richie didn’t plan on going to college. We didn’t even know if he was planning to stay in Derry or not. His grades ranged from F’s to incompletes. It’s not that he didn’t try, he got good grades, but his foul mouth and pranks on the teachers are why he’s not getting recruited left and right like Ben. Stan was so fed up with how Richie’s answers to questions about his future would always be “fuck it” so he forced him to send an application to a small arts school. Richie complained the entire time he wrote his essay, especially when Stan would delete the swear words. He learned many years later that he would thank Stan for making him apply, because that school led him realize how much he loved acting. He sent in the application without giving it a second thought, as if he already knew he wouldn’t get in. And now, the 6 of us are in our cap and gowns, smiling in front of the school while Richie took our picture. He didn’t have enough credits to graduate, but he knew that he wouldn’t repeat his senior year without us. Before we went in, Ben ran up to Richie and told him he needed to tell him something. I could tell it was important. Richie checked his watch and told him to tell him after because we were going to be late. We sat in the front rows of the gym, and Richie sat in the back with the parents. The principal called us up onto the stage by name, Bill was first, then Mike, then Ben, then Eddie, then me, then Stan. Once the principal stopped reading the names, he furrowed his brow and pushed his tiny glasses farther up his nose, as if he was reading something he couldn’t believe. “Richard Tozier” he said, almost as surprised as we were to hear his name. We saw Richie stand up from the back of the gym and slowly make his way to the front and stopped in front of the stage. The principal walked over to the ledge, leaned over, and told him that the list said that Richie was graduating. Richie asked “How is that possible?” Instead of answering the principal walked back to the podium and spoke into the microphone. “Richard Tozier, who will be attending Turrenburg School for Dramatic Arts.” We all were frozen in shock, Richie too. Until we all started cheering. Richie came out of his trance and walked up onto the stage where he shook the principal’s hand and took his diploma. Just as he was about to start the closing ceremony, Richie grabbed the microphone from him. “Oh no” I heard Eddie say. We wanted to stop him, but it was too late. “Oh wow I didn’t even have a speech prepared.” Richie stated, chuckling a bit from the shock. The principal immediately tried to take the mic from him, but Richie was much taller and held it above his head. “Listen here mister this is probably as far as i’m gonna get in life so please, let me have my moment.” The principal retreated, figuring that if he was never going to have to deal with Richie again, he might as well give up now. Richie continued, “Yeah like wow this is so unexpected. No really I don’t think i have ever seen anything above a C minus. I don’t even think I’ve seen a D. Well hehe I have seen a D but that’s a story for another time. OOOH personal shoutouts right. Uhhh,” Richie turned to face us. “Ok thank you to my friends for being the most annoying people on the planet I love you assholes.” He scanned the crowd and made eye contact with his junior year math teacher. “Uh Mr. Brenner!!! You said I was hopeless and a failure last year but it’s ok because I have way more sex than you so I forgive you.” There were a few gasps and giggles from the crowd. Richie pointed at a boy standing in the middle of the swarm of seniors onstage. “OH!! marcus!! I fucked your mom in freshman year, and uh no I’m not sorry.” Marcus looked like he was either going to kill him or throw up. Richie turned back to the audience. “And to all the teachers who told me I would never make it. WELL FUCK YOU BITCHES I’M GOING TO COLLEGE.” He found the area where are the teachers were sitting. He pointed at his english teacher and said fuck you, his math teacher, fuck you, his science teacher, fuck you. He turned to the principal “Oh yeah and especially fuck you. He lowered his diploma revealing his middle finger. “SEE YOU NEVER FUCKERS!!!” He shouted as he dropped the mic and jumped into our arms. The senior classed cheered him on, chanting his name over and over. After the ceremony, Ben explained how Richie’s acceptance letter came in the mail that morning, and that’s what he wanted to tell him before they went into school. That summer was pretty hectic, it was mostly filled with each of us getting ready for college. We spent every waking minute with each other, knowing any day could be our last. It was the greatest summer of my life. As the end got closer, I pushed away the thoughts that I would have to leave. My semester started earlier than everyone else, so my plane was scheduled a week before. I didn’t want to be the one to leave first, I wanted to leave last so I could say goodbye to each of them one at a time, not all at once. The thought of it made my stomach churn.

 

Three days before I was supposed to leave, we surprised Bill with a trip to the beach since he skipped out on his own trip to take care of Mike that one time. We all packed into Mike’s truck, Stan sat shotgun, Ben, Bill, and I in the middle, and Richie and Eddie in the back. Halfway through the drive, we were fed up with Richie and Eddie bickering, so Bill went back with Eddie and Richie sat next to me. I was in the middle, and Ben was at the window. It was perfect because I could see how he rested his head on his elbow, the cool breeze drifting over his face. I was in somewhat of a trance, until I turned around and face Richie, who was smirking at me with one of his eyebrows raised. I blushed and looked down. Mike turned on the radio, which was playing Billie Jean. We all groaned and braced ourselves for what was coming. But before Richie could butcher the song for the 100th time since we met, Mike changed the station. Richie let out a frustrated whine but we all perked up when he heard the next song. The song that played in the background of our first sleepover freshman year, the song that played when I danced with all of them at prom. This was our song. It was called Ribs. Not many people had heard of it, but we knew every word and considered it our anthem. We belted out the song while Richie and Bill played on their air guitars. “You’re the only friend I need, Sharing beds like little kids, We’ll laugh until our ribs get tired, Though that will never be enough.” We sang it until it was over. We were all panting, completely out of breath, but it was a memory we would never forget. Once we got to the beach and unloaded the truck, we all stood on the sand and looked at the water. Richie spoke up, “Well here goes nothing.” And with one swift movement he pulled down his swim trunks. “BEEP FUCKING BEEP RICHIE” We all yelled in unison covering our eyes. “What? It’s not like you haven’t seen it before?” Haven’t you guys ever been skinny dipping?” “NO!!” We yelled again. “You all are such fucking babies,” He said as he pulled his suit back up again. “But last one to the water gets to suck it!” As he took off racing, the rest of us followed. Except for Eddie. I turned back around and saw Eddie still standing on the beach. “Cmon Eddie what are waiting for?” I noticed he looked weary. I walked closer to him. “Eds what’s wrong?” He groaned and said, “I’m annoyed.” I laughed and asked him why. He said, “Because now all the times that Richie joked about how big his dick is, I know he wasn’t lying.” I cackled and Eddie laughed too. I grabbed his land and ran with him into the water. We swam together, had chicken fights, and splashed each other. It was bliss. Once we came out of the water, Stan made a fire for us to sit by. It was the middle of the day and the sun was out, but in Maine it was never truly warm. We talked about memories of high school for a while. Richie brought up the time that Eddie got his hand stuck in the vending machine because he was trying to get Twizzlers. Eddie smacked his arm for reminding everyone of that. Eddie talked about how he walked in on Mike and his girlfriend during junior year, Eddie screamed and ran away, too traumatized to talk to anyone for days. Mike talked about the time I got my period during math, so he took off his own shirt to so I could cover up the stain. He walked around shirtless the whole day. I talked about how Bill drank a shot of hot sauce at a restaurant because a bet he made with me. I gave him $20 on the spot. Bill talked about how he and Stan went kayaking together a few weeks ago. They paddled into some rapids and screamed the entire way. Stan talked about the time that Ben tripped over his shoelaces and face planted into a puddle of mud. That was the one time I could say Stan was crying because of something over than sadness. Ben talked about the day before graduation when we all snuck into school during the night and spray painted a dick on the statue of our mascot. He took a picture of all of us standing next to our work, looking very proud at the masterpiece we created. That picture sat on my desk in my college dorm for the next 4 years. I turned to face the ocean, and I noticed that there was a small cliff overlooking the water. A fragment of a forgotten memory came back to me at that moment. I don’t remember when it happened but it was of me jumping off a similar cliff, with the boys standing on the edge watching me. I don’t know how that memory came back to me at that particular moment, but I knew that it was important and we had to do something about it. I turned back to the boys who were watching me intently. “We have to go jump off that cliff.” I said seriously. Eddie just about fainted on the spot. “What?” Ben said. I pointed to the ledge, “Listen I don’t know what it is, maybe it’s fate, but something tells me that we have to jump off.” They all seemed skeptical, even Richie, who would normally pounce at an opportunity like this. “Don’t you think it seems kind of high up?” Bill asked. “Yeah Bev I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Mike said. I was about to say something in response when I heard another voice speak. “She’s right.” I turned to see who the voice belonged to. It was Stan. The last person I would ever expect to agree to jumping off a cliff. “We have to do it.” He said sternly. The rest of them looked at each other, still hesitant but reluctantly nodded their heads. Then, Stanley Uris, who would die in a bathtub with crosses slashed into his forearms 27 years later, got to his feet. He waited for the rest of us to stand up too, so we did. When we got to the cliff, and peered off the edge, Bill asked who was going first. In that moment, I knew it was me. I would jump off that cliff first, just like I would leave them first. “I’ll go.” I said from behind them. They turned and watched as I took off my shorts, ran forward, and jumped.

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It was at that moment that we all realized that were completely, utterly, irrevocably, in love with Beverly Marsh. In our weird not-so-platonic friendship, we all knew we loved her. With Eddie, it was more of a motherly love, with Mike or Stan, it was more sisterly, while with Bill, Ben, and Richie, it was more romantic. Although we would never admit it, our lives revolved around Beverly. Even as we got older and our memories started to fade, we would all have left our wives in a heartbeat if Beverly asked us to marry her. She was like all of us in so many ways. We think she got along with Richie so well, because they were both fragile. They were like fire, those two. With their ripped jeans, faded band t-shirts, and cigarettes, they were a force to be reckoned with. Richie got to see a side of Beverly that none of us had never seen before, and at times, we were jealous. But we knew that she gave herself to Richie, because Richie gave himself to her first. She was like Bill, in the sense that she was a leader. She took charge during sophomore year when everything fell apart. She helped us when we needed her the most. She took us into her home when we had nowhere else to go, because she was our home. She was like Ben, because she was smart. She worked harder than anyone else, because she vowed that someday she could go to school anywhere else than Derry. She was like Mike, because she was fearless. We all remembered when how much she hated when her body started developing because of how people would look at her. She wore baggy jeans, sweatshirts, and let her hair cover her face. It wasn’t until junior year that she realized that she had control of her own body, and that people would look at her no matter what she was wearing. We would never forget when she walked into school wearing tight jeans, a cropped Beatles t-shirt, winged eyeliner, and her hair in a tight ponytail. People stared, some from boys who would whisper obscene things into her ear as she walked by, or girls who called her a slut for what she was wearing, but Beverly walked right past them all. Her wardrobe changed from baggy jeans, to tight pants and skirts. From sweatshirts, to crop tops and revealing sweaters. She had every boy in school wrapped around her finger, and she owned that power. Yes, Beverly had many great qualities that were similar to us. But we hated the fact that she had some of the bad ones too. She was like Eddie, in the fact that she couldn’t defend herself. During senior year Beverly got a boyfriend named Tom. He was tall, played hockey, and got good grades. The rest of us never talked to him much, except when he would leave Beverly’s room at night without his shirt, and sometimes his pants. We were beginning to suspect that was the only reason he was with Beverly, that he had heard the rumors and wanted to see if they were true or not. It was a lot worse than that. The first time it happened was in school. She walked into class with sunglasses on. When the teacher asked her to take them off, she pulled them off slowly, revealing a bruise next to her left eye. When we asked her about it, she said some girls hit her on her way to school. We believed her, because Beverly never lied. The second time was at home. Richie heard her and Tom fighting from the living room so he walked downstairs and watched it from the crack in the door. The second his hand hit her cheek, Richie pushed through the door and started walking towards Tom. Beverly quickly put his hands on Richie’s chest and told him to go back upstairs because she could handle it. Richie looked into her eyes, and walked away. We expected her to break up with him the next day, but when she walked into school holding his hand, we felt like all hope was lost. When she saw Tom making out with another girl behind the school, she locked herself in her room for days. She started wearing baggy clothes again, and we hated not being able to help her. She was like Stan, because she liked order. We knew that Bev would avoid any situation that would be detrimental to how she lived her life. Which is why we made a pact to never bring up college in front of her, because we knew how much it scared her. We didn’t know why she was so afraid of change, but we decided it was best to let her figure things out on her own. The thing was, we always thought that we were her protector, but that wasn’t the case. She was ours. And staring off the edge of cliff, and seeing her in the water below. We felt so proud to have watched the shy girl turn into the fierce woman she was that day.

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I looked up at them from the water below, smiling and waving for them for jump in too. Bill went second, then Stan, then Ben, then Mike, then Richie, and after a lot of convincing, Eddie joined us too. I felt it as much as they did. Whatever it was, we were bonded for life. The next thing I know, I’m grabbing my suitcases and putting them in the back of Mike’s truck. The rest of the loser’s were coming with me to the airport, but the ride there was in complete silence. After I checked my bags I turned around and faced them for the last time. I walked up to Richie, who standing on the far left. His breathing was shaky and he wouldn’t look me in the eye. I placed my uncle under his chin and raised his face to meet mine. There were tears in his eyes, that was the second time I had ever seen Richie Tozier cry. The next time would be 22 years later with Richie crying over Eddie Kaspbrak’s lifeless body. Richie grabbed my face with both of his hands and pressed a hard kiss against my lips, much like the first time I kissed him all those years ago. I leant my head against his, and then moved to Eddie. Eddie was crying too, so I leaned forward and kissed his forehead softly. I moved to Mike, and kissed his cheek. I moved to Stanley, and placed my hand upon his cheek, smiling at him like how a mother smiles at her son. I moved to Bill, I took his hand in mine, and pressed my lips against his. It was soft and gentle, just how I would describe Bill. When I pulled back, a tear slid down his eye. I moved to Ben. Ben was crying more than any of them. I moved in close, and kissed him. It wasn’t rough like Richie or soft like Bill. It was perfect, and when I pulled back, his eyes weren’t like Bill’s, but they were full of lust. His lips were parted, his cheeks red, and his eyes were lit up, the same way he used to look at me. I turned around and started to walk into the terminal, but something stopped me. I lived my whole life trying to avoid change, because I was scared of the unknown, but my life changed for the better when I met my friends. My life changed when Richie, Stan, and Eddie moved in with me. My life changed when I kissed Ben. And then I realized, I’m not afraid of change at all. In fact, change is what led me to the people I care about the most. With all of this hitting me at once, I felt myself crying too. I turned back to the loser’s and ran towards them with all my might. They all hugged me once I got to them and I’ve never felt more at home.

 

Saying goodbye to Beverly Marsh was the hardest moment of our lives. We never wanted to let her go.

 

I eventually broke away from the hug, smiling and wiping my tears, and walked back to the door. One last time I turned back and looked at them. And before I left, the last thing I whispered to them was,

“Bye”.


End file.
